Chapter Forty-Two: Unexpected Events During Filming

At this moment, Liu Qingshan was instructing Kunal in the art of boxing. He had specifically chosen a location inaccessible to ordinary people. He did not worry that his ancestral ancient boxing techniques would thus find their way into foreign hands; after all, very few could truly master the Thirty-six Flower Fists. Moreover, a considerable number of people at home had already learned it, and in a few decades, it would become as common as the regular Shaolin boxing styles.

Kunal had a foundation in Eastern martial arts, so he made rapid progress. With daily rehearsals under the Chen Family Stunt Team’s guidance, he became proficient within the fortnight they spent in Stone City.

A major shoot at a small-town market was still ahead, requiring numerous extras and the cooperation of snake charmers, dancers, magicians, and other folk performers. Therefore, after a little over half a month, the production would move to Hospet, a location ideal in every respect for filming.

The film’s tragic ending had, in fact, already been shot in Chang’an. When Jackie entered the Emperor Qin’s Mausoleum alone to be reunited with Jin Xishan, the film was meant to conclude with the lovers rekindling their ancient bond—a perfect ending. Especially poignant was the final line, “You are not Meng Yi; I cannot go with you,” which drew the curtain on their thousand-year romance.

This somewhat unexpected conclusion might not align with the audience’s expectation that a mythic tale should end with the most idealized happiness. Liu Qingshan once expressed his doubts about this, but both Jackie and Tang Jieli took it seriously, asking him for his reasoning.

Liu Qingshan had said at the time, "The ending feels too rushed. The time-travel plot is already rather far-fetched, and this unsatisfying conclusion may only prompt audiences to exaggerate these contrivances in their discontent."

After some consideration, Tang Jieli decided to add an epilogue to the ending. As he described it, he would append a vague footnote during the credits via a voiceover, offering both a realist and a romantic alternative to the tragic conclusion. The specifics could be as evocative as a montage, planting a seed for a possible sequel and easing the abruptness of the ending.

In this way, not only would the audience’s hopes for a happy ending be somewhat fulfilled, but it would also preserve the uncertainty between myth and reality. The script had already sown seeds for a sequel: Meng Yi, after countless hardships, fails to save the princess, or, having saved her, she cannot adapt to the new environment and dies. Stricken by grief, he contemplates following her in death, but recalling the meteorite and relics he stole from the Mossu Kingdom and has yet to return, he gives up the idea. In the process of returning the meteorite, he falls in love with the Indian beauty who once saved him, and they become inseparable.

This thread could coexist with the ambiguous voiceover, leaving room for possibilities. The ultimate direction of a sequel would depend on the market’s reaction.

The day of departure from Stone City arrived in a flash. After more than ten days together, the local actors had grown quite close with the crew. Especially the lively and bold Marika, who, surprisingly, set aside her beloved curry to blend in with Jackie’s team and gradually became accustomed to the Chinese cuisine on set.

Hospet, truth be told, was not a large city. Its notoriety owed much to the world heritage site of Stone City. Still, as a city, it was far more bustling than the surrounding towns.

The local market resembled those in China during the seventies and eighties—primarily because of the lack of regulation. The city’s streets were narrow, the buildings generally dilapidated, but every day they teemed with crowds, stalls spread out on woven sacks or burlap right on the ground.

The crew headed not first to their hotel, but straight to the rubber processing plant they had reserved. A key scene was to be shot there: Jackie and Marika, pursued by the police, dash into the plant, and the fight spills onto a moving conveyor belt. The actors get stuck in the sticky rubber glue, and to escape, are forced to remove their clothing piece by piece.

This sequence was indispensable for the film’s comic element—a hallmark of Jackie’s decades-long style. The massive guillotine on the conveyor was no prop; facing the swiftly moving serrated blade, the actors’ safety depended on days of prior rehearsal.

It was midday. After a simple lunch, Jackie gathered the relevant team members to the factory for a trial run. The Chen Family Stunt Team came too, as Jackie’s films often involved impromptu action choreography—especially stunts on the ever-moving conveyor, where unpredictability reigned.

Any misstep on the conveyor could be fatal, making the action design extremely challenging. Marika, in particular, had to perform several scenes where her clothes were torn off, requiring careful camera positioning to avoid exposure. Juggling both safety and modesty made her task even harder.

Jackie’s greatest concern was whether she could handle it, which was why he insisted on getting straight into rehearsals without rest.

With his innate comic genius, Jackie kept the atmosphere lively, his antics on set drawing laughter even from the bystanders. Yet his motives ran deeper. His earlier works were all action comedies, but this film was a new venture, focusing on epic romance. It was as if a comic performer suddenly took up singing on stage; unless their singing truly amazed and was accepted by the public, resistance was inevitable.

Therefore, in this stylistic transition, Jackie strove to amplify the comedic highlights, smoothing over the audience’s discomfort with the change. His signature exhilarating fight sequences became the perfect adhesive to mend the logical gaps and abrupt transitions between the story’s three main parts.

He worked with utmost seriousness, and Marika, the other lead, was equally devoted. Such scenes could never appear in the segments with Princess Yushu; ancient princesses had no right to freely love, nor could they be portrayed as independent modern women. Therefore, the boisterous, slapstick, and slightly foolish antics could only occur in a foreign setting. After all, the film’s central theme was still a heartrending and stirring love tragedy.

Perhaps Marika had received some promise from Jackie ahead of time, for she cooperated fully with the subsequent sequences. It was important to remember that Indian customs, shaped over millennia, were still relatively conservative, especially under religious influences. Yet Bollywood actresses enjoyed a special exemption for their uninhibited performances.

Even so, the adhesive power of the rubber on the conveyor was astonishing; to break free, stripping off clothing became the only natural solution.

However, the comedic effect on screen did not mean the shoot itself was easy. The glue’s grip repeatedly disrupted the pre-planned choreography, making things even more difficult for Marika, who had to expose herself. To spare her embarrassment, Jackie minimized the number of onlookers present.

Liu Qingshan was not excluded, as many dangerous stunts required him to act as a stand-in. In fact, he was called upon for such tasks frequently throughout the shoot.

Amusingly, after two exhausting days, Jackie—stripped down to cartoon-smiling boxer shorts—and Marika—down to her bra and a bare back—both caught colds. The frequent interruptions due to the glue’s stickiness only added to the strain.

Thus, even as Jackie received an IV drip two days later, he showed no sign of enjoying the supposedly titillating shoot. “Try standing naked in a draft for two days straight—would you still joke about it?” he snapped at the teasing Liang Jia Hui, his face twisted in mock fury.

On the other bed, Marika, red-nosed and teary, complained, “Even though it’s over thirty degrees, that giant guillotine sends a piercing chill through the air. Ask Brother Qingshan if you don’t believe me!”

Liu Qingshan shook his head solemnly. “But you two spent plenty of time hugging each other for warmth. If anyone had it rough, it was the cameramen!”

Jackie retorted with a laugh, “They kept their clothes on! You heartless rascal—my big brother’s down like this and you’re still kicking me while I’m down!”

Kunal, acting as translator, chimed in with his halting Mandarin, “On this, I side with Big Brother. My master’s been laughing his head off these past two days, always sneaking over to Marika whenever the shoot was interrupted for a feast for the eyes!”

With a swift slap, Liu Qingshan silenced him. “Nonsense!”

Marika burst into laughter, “On that count, I can vouch for Qingshan. He looked after me far more than Big Brother did, always draping a jacket over me!”

In truth, everyone present knew Liu Qingshan stayed close mainly for safety. The conveyor ran continuously during the shoot, and the guillotine was no prop—one wrong move could be fatal. Aside from two people stationed at the power switch, Liu was placed nearest to the action, ready to assist at a moment’s notice.

Their banter was merely a way to lighten the atmosphere, but it was undeniable that Marika now trusted Liu Qingshan almost as much as she did Jackie.

As a gesture of goodwill, Marika even introduced her personal attendant—her cousin, who shared the same name as the Bollywood star Aishwarya—to Liu Qingshan.

Aishwarya, like her cousin, was stunningly beautiful, a blend of exotic allure and gentle grace, with large, soulful eyes that were irresistibly endearing.

But Liu Qingshan felt little interest in her. It wasn’t that he was immune to beauty—he was certainly appreciative—but he had no intention of taking things further.